Sort of Like Love
by Melinda Coulson
Summary: While on a trip to New York, Phil Coulson and Melinda May are thrown together through happenstances. Their unlikely friendship pushes the limits towards romance as they continue this trend of brief, yet meaningful meetings the next six years. "A Lot Like Love" AU
1. Prologue

**A/N:** Hello Philinda and AoS fandom!

This is my first AU based on another movie or fandom or anything really. So I hope it goes well and I hope you guys like it. If you've seen the movie "A Lot Like Love", you are pretty much completely spoiled xD but I hope you enjoy this regardless. Some of the dialogue are exact replications from the film, so I don't mean any copyright infringement!

Very special thanks to my amazing beta: elle-oh-you. You are wonderful, deary, and I appreciate all you do, have done, and will do! 3

Please let me know what you think and as always,

Enjoy~

* * *

 _ **Prologue**_

 **7 Years Ago**

It had been weeks since Phil last communicated with his brother, Clint, and he couldn't wait to visit him at his new home in New York. Clint had been living there for almost a year, but Phil never really had a chance to go over, what with finishing school and looking into a career. Now, he'd decided to take a break and see the city his older brother had fallen in love with.

In all of Clint's letters and emails, he talked about how much he loved the city and how great it was being part of the police task force. Though there had been something a little off about his last few messages that Phil couldn't wait to interrogate him about.

For now, he was content with putting up with his sister as she drove him to the airport. In the car with them were two of his sister's best friends. They were talking - in a very loud manner - about some boys at school and superfluous gossip. Usually, her constant jabbering with her friends irritated him to no end and her driving made him fear for his life, but he was willing to deal with it with it if it meant getting him closer to New York.

As they quickly came upon the airport, she pulled over to the curb in a way that could only be described as death defying. Her friends didn't seem to mind and even enjoyed the spastic driving, but Phil was gripping the door's handle tightly with fear. He couldn't wait to get out.

"We're here," his sister announced, voice laced with faux annoyance.

"Thanks for driving me to the airport, Maria," Phil said gratefully as he pulled his small suitcase from the back seat. Her driving may instill him with fear, but she got him there in one piece. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but adding, "By the way, does mom know you drive like that?"

Maria simply rolled her eyes at him and pointed to the door. "Get out! You are so annoying!"

Phil smirked at their familiar interaction and made kissing noises towards her as he stepped out of her death trap of a vehicle. As soon as the door shut, Maria pulled away and sped off,forcing Phil to jump back, unless he wanted to arrive in New York with broken toes.

He shook his head and chuckled while putting his suitcase down on the sidewalk and making sure he had all of his things. Wallet, check. Identification, check. Camera, check. Captain America nighttime plushy, definitely a check.

With everything in order, Phil was ready to start this two week adventure. This was going to be unforgettable! But before he could make his way towards the airport entrance, he heard yelling that forced his attention towards a parked car. He turned just in time to witness a young woman, around his age, throw her large soda cup at the windshield of her ride's car.

Moments ago, just as he and his sister were pulling up in their car, he had vaguely noticed the now squabbling pair locking lips and exchanging a surprising amount of saliva. Public displays of affection made him feel a little awkward, so naturally he ignored them. Now he watched on as the lovers quarrelled violently.

"Screw you," Phil heard the girl scream. Wow, she was beautiful.

This gorgeous stranger was shorter than he was, had straight black hair and looked like she might be Chinese. Despite her petite size, she had a fierce and deadly spark in her eyes. And her voice, even as she yelled angrily, sounded wonderful. Whatever was going on between the two of them, he knew that the guy was about to lose out on a great catch. Under different circumstances, Phil would have been more than willing to swoop in and date her in a heart beat.

"You just don't believe in the band!" he suddenly heard the man yell. Phil had missed out on most of their argument but this he caught. So, the guy was in a band. Interesting. Like an everyday Bon Jovi.

"I do believe in the band," the girl retorted, "I love the band!"

"Whatever, have a good life!" the guy said with his back to turned towards her. Without another word Bon Jovi got back into his truck and started to pull away.

"Fine! Leave!" Phil's mysterious beauty called out. Her boyfriend pulled away without a moment's hesitation as she hit his car in frustration.

She stood there dejected, but she looked more furious than upset or sad. It was almost as if she were mining all her frustrations and sadness to unleash at another time. And she looked absolutely radiant while doing this.

Phil knew it was a little creepy and stalkerish, but there wasn't much of a chance they'd ever see each other again anyway. He discretely shot a few pictures of her with his camera before he finally entered the airport and proceeded to go through the check-in process. His mind drifting freely between thoughts of New York and the scene he witnessed. Then it hit him.

What was he thinking taking her photo? And more importantly, what was he going to do with them. When he would finally get his film printed, he'd have a few random photos of a complete stranger at an airport. He could come up with a fantastic story about how they met and had this amazing adventure and fling while he was in New York, but really, who would buy that? Especially coming from him.

He contemplated his actions as he sat in the terminal by his gate and waited to board. He sat there patiently, people watching and letting his eyes wander, until he caught sight of his beauty once more. She took a seat two rows in front of him, but still in the same terminal area. It looked like they were both going to New York.

Well this was awkward.

Despite his reservations and against his better judgement, his eyes remained locked on her and took in every detail about her. She looked stone-faced, as though she were trying to keep from exploding - in tears or in anger, he'll never know. Her eyes were dark brown, almost black, and her all black outfit did wonders for her already flawless figure. She didn't seem to smile much, but judging from her earlier scene, she didn't seem to have much to smile about anyways. He wondered if she-

Oh shit, her eyes just met his and she caught him staring. Shit! What was he going to do? His eyes grew wide as he panicked internally. Would she yell at him? Glare intensely? Call airport security? He couldn't avert his gaze, no matter how hard he tried. It was almost like his eyes were actually glued on her. Great, now he really was like a stalker.

Then he paused. Wait. Her expression didn't look angry or offended - it looked curious. She raised one eyebrow and he watched as she checked him out and cocked her head to the side slightly. Her eyes roamed up and down his figure twice before she pursed her lips slightly. It was as though she were thinking, "He's not the best looking guy out there, but I wouldn't mind doing him."

 _Was_ she thinking that? Could he possibly have a small chance with her? Maybe he should stand up and talk to her. Make a move.

But before he could so much as think of a line to use on her, his flight began boarding and people crowded around him until his view of her was obscured. He stood up and looked in her direction, but her previously occupied seat was now vacant and he was being shoved and pushed towards the gate. His shoulders fell slightly as he made his way to the gate and onto the plane.

What was he expecting anyway? Was he going to walk right over to her, say something charming and sweep her off her feet? Then what? They get to New York, shake hands and say, "Well this was great!" Plus, she'd just broken up with her boyfriend. If he did make a move on her, it'd be like taking advantage of a poor, unsuspecting victim.

Yes. That was it. He did the right thing hesitating. He was being a good person and not taking advantage of a complete stranger at a low and vulnerable point in her life. A very good person.

After finally getting his mystery girl off his mind, Phil spent the majority of his plane ride rereading his comics and thinking about all the great things he could do in New York. He could see Time Square, visit Central Park-oh! He heard they had a new Captain America museum opening up and he could visit that one cafe they shot _You've Got Mail_.

"Can I clear this for you sir?"

A stewardess pulled Phil out of his thoughts as she motioned towards the empty bags of peanuts on his tray table. He nodded politely and she began cleaning the mess.

"Would you like anymore peanuts? I can bring the cart over."

"Oh no, I'm fine thanks."

Just as the stewardess was about to turn away, the man who was sitting in front of Phil dropped his seat back and caused the small cup of soda he had to spill all over himself. The stewardess immediately tended to the sticky situation and apologized profusely. She offered him a towel several times while patting his chest with her own until Phil finally excused himself to the bathroom.

Once there, he looked himself in the mirror and sighed frustratedly at the large spill displayed on his shirt. Thank god he had already put his comics back in his backpack.

"Well, this is just great," he muttered as he wet a paper towel and began to dab at his shirt. After a few seconds there was a knock on the door and Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm fine, thanks." he called out as politely as he could to the stewardess who had helped him earlier.

Despite this, the knocking continued and became harder and more insistent. After several seconds, Phil let out an irritated groan before turning around to open the door.

"Look I said I'm fi-"

However, instead of the stewardess, there stood his mystery girl with a mischievous smile on her face. Before another sound left his mouth, she pushed him back into the bathroom and locked the door behind her.

Well this was a pleasant surprise.


	2. Day in New York

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long! But it is a long chapter so hopefully that makes up for it. Ch 2 is entirely written yet, but if its the same length as this chapter it's already half way done. Thank you to my FABULOUS Beta, elle-you-oh. She's amazing and very giving. 3

Please leave a comment and your thoughts and as always,

Enjoy~

* * *

After about ten minutes - any longer and people might have gotten suspicious - his sexy, mystery girl snuck out of the plane bathroom without saying a word. In fact, the most he had heard from her during their entire rendezvous was a bit of moaning and what he thought sounded like an "Oh yes!"

As she left, Phil noted that her hair was a complete mess, her lipstick was smeared - on both their faces - and she hadn't bothered to make sure her clothes were perfectly righted. God she was beautiful!

Phil couldn't take the smile off his face as he made his way out of the small room and back to his seat. He knew his shirt was only half tucked in and he ran his hands over it as he walked down the aisle. Once back at his seat, Phil practically melted into it with content as the endorphins continued their way through his system.

"Is everything alright now?" the stewardess from before came over and asked, but with a bit more impatience.

She probably knew.

"Yeah, everything's fine." Phil replied sheepishly, but he still couldn't wipe away his satisfied grin. After she had walked away, he closed his eyes and for the rest of the trip he just relived the ten most glorious minutes of the flight.

Phil had just made his way to baggage claim when his eyes fell upon his nameless seductress. Perhaps this was a sign that he should introduce himself. If they were going to continually run into each other like this, he might as well be polite, right?

She was sitting on the edge of the conveyer belt with her head down and in her hands as he approached her. It looked as though she were purposefully trying not to look at him, but maybe she was just shy. Or embarrassed? She did just join the mile high club with a complete stranger - maybe she was already a member. Anyways, he should still introduce himself.

Just as he got close enough to speak to her, she cut him off before any words could escape his lips.

"Don't," she said simply yet sternly as she refused to look up at him.

Phil waited a beat or two before going on, despite her weak protest. "Hi I'm Phil," he started. "I just thought-"

"Blah, blah, blah," she sighed and moved to see him, "See? It's ruined."

Coulson furrowed his brows in confusion. "What?"

"Our little secret," she responded wearily, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Actually, I think the stewardess was onto us. So…"

"Well she'll have to be killed."

Phil wasn't sure whether he should laugh or be terrified because of how seriously she said that. She was probably joking, but there was something about her - she was not someone you would mess with lightly.

The belt began to move and his still nameless girl stood up and turned around in anticipation of her stuff. Phil let several seconds creep in between them before finally speaking up again.

"I'm Phil," he repeated.

"You keep saying that!" she said with exasperation.

"Wow, you don't make it easy for a guy."

"I think I made it pretty easy for you," she said pausing for a moment as if deep in thought before continuing. "Phil." And with that she grabbed her luggage and left the area without looking back.

Phil let out a disheartened sigh as he watched her leave. He turned around in time to grab his luggage and made his way towards the subway.

Maybe she wasn't interested in anything but a quickie in the bathroom. She could have been wanting a quick fling to get her rocks off because now she's free and single. Or maybe she was playing hard to get, testing to see if he was really interested. But what were the odds that she was looking for a new boyfriend right after breaking up with her old one?

Phil thought about their exchange and dissected their interactions, all the way to the subway platform. When he got there, he found it mostly deserted, save for him and his mystery girl.

She was standing there smoking a cigarette, oblivious of his presence. She was looking around for any sign that the train was approaching when she finally took note of his presence. Phil saw her roll her eyes and drop the cigarette, stepping on it with her black boots. It was obvious that she was making a conscious effort to ignore him and continue looking out for the train.

Phil took this opportunity to slowly make his way closer and ended up standing nearly a yard away from her. He teetered back and forth for about a minute before deciding to try talking to her again. If nothing else, he was persistent.

"So, things ended pretty badly with your boyfriend, Bon Jovi," Phil couldn't help referring to her ex-boyfriend by his original code name for him. It seemed almost fitting and he saw her put the pieces together after several seconds, so he knew it worked.

"What? Are we friends now?" she sounded skeptical, but that was better than creeped out.

"I'd say we're a little more than friends," he joked and she responded with a scoff. "What does Bon Jovi play?" There was a short pause before he continued. "Oh no, don't tell me. He plays guitar doesn't he?"

His mystery girl turned and looked at him incredulously before pursing her lips. She then looked away as though she were going to ignore his remark before responding, "Yes, he plays the guitar. What's wrong with that?"

A grin spread through Phil's face at her reaction and he chuckled softly. "Well, everybody plays guitar."

She turned to face him once more with a challenging glare directed at him just as he heard the train approaching. "Do you play the guitar?"

Phil was taken aback by the question and his grin fell. He fidgeted a bit before finally confessing, "No."

The train arrived and stopped just in time for her to turn around with a victorious smirk on her face. "Strike two," she announced softly as she picked up her bags and boarded the train.

Phil paused for a moment, temporarily paralyzed by her comment, before he realized that this was also his train. He quickly gathered his belongings and rushed in after her, managing to sit down near her with one person between them.

When the train began moving, neither of them made a move to talk to the other person. He kept staring at her over the short, elderly person between them. What did she mean by strike two? What was strike one? When did he get strike one? Was it during their quickie? Was it too quick? Was it not satisfying? What the hell was strike one?

"Would you like to sit next to your girlfriend?"

A soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and it took him a moment to realize that it was the sweet, old lady between them.

Phil looked at his nameless enigma who stared back at him in disbelief. A mischievous grin planted itself on his face and he looked down at the older woman kindly. "I would love that, thank you."

With a proud smile, the elderly woman easily stood up and they exchanged seats. Phil made sure to cozy up to his mystery girl and that their arms were pressed tightly to one another. She simply shook her head and rolled her eyes before turning to look in the opposite direction. She was determined to ignore him all the way to her stop and he wouldn't allow that.

"So what's your deal, Phil," he began talking to himself. "Why are you in New York?" He turned his head as he responded to his own question. "Well that's very kind of you to ask. I'm here visiting family. Oh really? What family? Oh, you know. Just here to see my brother. Haven't seen him in the few months since he moved to New York. He's a cop, soon to be detective I'm sure."

He looked over at her from the corner of his eye and saw her staring at him in amusement as she tried to hold back a laugh. He only smiled wider at her and waited for her to continue their conversation.

"Is that what you want to do, too?" she finally let up.

"I don't know," he admitted with a purse of his lips, "I just finished school." Six months ago, he didn't add.

"Don't people usually graduate in June?"

She was on to him.

"Uh… yeah."

"It's been almost a year, and you still don't have a job?"

Did he hear concern in her voice?

"Who are you? My mom?" he tried to joke lightheartedly.

A playful smirk graced her lips. Man, he really liked that smirk. "I don't know. When you look at me do you see your mom?" Ouch, he didn't need that image in his head.

She gave a soft laugh at his pause and brief look of horror. He wouldn't mind embarrassing himself again if it meant that he would get to hear that soft laugh coming from her once more..

The train began to slow to a stop and she suddenly turned to see where they were. She leaned forward to gather her things, but he moved quickly to help pick up her luggage. When they both stood up, the two were in close proximity and he felt her breath near his face. Pulling back slightly, she looked him over thoughtfully.

"Who's your favorite superhero?" she asked him.

He looked at her with surprise and confusion before answering confidently, "Captain America."

She looked down, almost disappointed, before telling him, "Strike three."

It took him a second to realize what had just happened and his face fell slightly. Then, she moved towards the door and he followed after her with her things still in his hand. She looked back at him with what he thought appeared to be regret, but it didn't seem as though the third strike was going away anytime soon.

"Thanks," she said with a curt nod as she took her luggage from him. "It's Melinda," she finally disclosed as she walked backwards out of the train.

"Melinda…" he smiled as they stood on opposite sides of the door, "I would have never guessed that."

Another smirk fell upon her features before she quickly added, "Don't get mugged."

And with that, the doors closed and the train began to move forward and passed what could have been. He stood frozen in his spot, watching her until the train was submerged in darkness by the tunnel.

Melinda.

Though he might have gotten out on three strikes, despite how arbitrary they all seemed in his opinion, he couldn't help but smile at their interactions and meetings. She wasn't like many of the other girls he had met before. She was daring, assertive, and quick witted. She could make him blush and enjoyed doing it. They had only known each other for maybe two hours tops, but Phil couldn't help but feel completely drawn and attracted to her.

For the rest of the train ride and even as he made his way out of the subway station, his thoughts were completely engulfed by Melinda. Her name was just as beautiful and interesting as she was.

Melinda.

As he approached subway exit, making his way towards the big city, he tried to push thoughts of her to the back of his mind. He was about to see his brother and he should really be thinking about that instead of some amazing, mysterious, interesting, witty girl he met on his way there. Starting now.

Phil finally came out of the subway station into New York and was greeted by his welcoming brother who held a sign that clearly had the word "Loser" on it. Ah, just like the doctor ordered,

Phil shook his head as he smiled and tore the sign out of his brother's hands, discarding it carelessly onto the ground. They shared a strong, long awaited hug, and out of habit, began signing to each other. It took Phil almost a minute before he noticed there was quiet, redhead standing behind his brother, watching them patiently. Phil eyed her curiously and realized what was odd about his brother's recent letters - he had found himself a girl.

Motioning to her in a not at all subtle fashion, Clint confessed that she was indeed his girlfriend and they had been dating for six months now, nearly seven. He slipped an arm around her waist, effectively welcoming her into their conversation, and she and Phil signed a standard greeting to each other. Phil added that it was a pleasure to meet her.

"Hi Phil, I'm Natasha and it's great to meet you, too," she suddenly spoke aloud while offering her hand. "Clint has told me a lot about you."

Phil was taken aback for a moment but immediately shook her hand before apologizing. "I'm sorry, I thought you were…" he trailed off when he realized he was still signing.

Clint chuckled as he gave Natasha a one armed hug and asked, "You thought she was deaf, too?"

Phil blushed, his cheeks heating up, but the couple only chuckled in amusement and Clint put his free arm around his brother to guide him towards the car.

Clint wasn't always deaf. When they were younger, Clint was just like any other kid and had perfect hearing until about second grade. Then he got really sick and was out of school for a month. The entire family was scared he wouldn't get better, but he did… at the cost of his hearing. The standard hospital issue hearing aids helped a little, but not always. As a result, Clint learned sign language and how to read lips. He could respond through speech normally, but after always falling back on his signing and practicing with Phil for hours, it was just more comfortable to sign.

The couple took Phil back to their shared apartment to get settled in and spent the rest of the morning with him until they were both called to work. With nothing better to do and several hours to kill, Phil decided to grab his camera, a jacket, his wallet, backpack and left to explore the big city.

God, he really hoped he wouldn't get lost. Or mugged.

Melinda May was almost never on the East Coast. There were too many bad memories and too many burnt bridges. The only reason she moved to Los Angeles was because she figured it was the furthest place she could go without leaving the United States, or going somewhere completely different like Hawaii or Alaska. So, she hadn't been back to New York - not to visit her mother or her old friends - since she graduated from high school.

But she could make an exception.

When her mother first called to suggest Melinda visit and catch up with her and her new husband, Melinda scoffed. Why should she bother flying all the way to the other side of the country just to spend several miserable days with her mother and overly sweet stepfather?

Don't get her wrong, Melinda loved her mother. The woman may have been strict, but Melinda respected her and could see herself mimicking her mother's parenting style - with a few key modifications of course. But when it came to her stepfather, well, she barely even knew the man, let alone cared enough to "catch up with him."

Then she remembered the date that was coming up and decided; she could sacrifice a few measly days if it meant being able to do this in person.

"Hi dad," she said quietly as she approached the well cared for grave stone, flowers in hand.

She gave a small, meek smile as she set the roses on his stone and slowly sat down on the ground. Placing her bags next to her, she pulled her knees up to her chest and took in the quiet solitude.

They were all alone at the cemetery. No mother to nag them about everything and anything, no stupid boyfriend to constantly complain about his band or selfish desires, and definitely no "Phil" to… to be funny and make her laugh when she wanted to pout and sulk. Who did he think he was anyway, doing that to her? He was supposed to be a quick, stress relieving fling in a plane bathroom. Not someone whose goofy smile was contagious.

Melinda shook her head as she tried to get Phil off her mind. Right now was her time with her father and she was going to cherish it. Not waste it on a cute guy she decided impulsively to have sex with.

"Hey dad," she began again softly.

Phil wore a wide smile as he walked the streets of New York. His camera hung around his neck and his hands were free of any burden. All he had on him were the bare necessities to survive one day in New York as a tourist.

He peered through every window of every small shop and cafe he happened upon. Big, brand stores and hotspots were obvious areas for any person to visit, but he was determined to see the heart of the city - what brought it to life. Phil loved discovering the little nooks and crannies of cities, like quaint diners that were modeled after the 60s or antique book stores that carried nothing but the classics. They were always preserved and hidden by the hustle and bustle of city life. He decided to spend his day alone exploring different neighborhoods and mom-and-pop shops around - it was always more fun and usually resulted in better experiences overall.

As he walked down one of the streets, he noticed a side vendor selling and displaying an assortment of jackets. Some of them were cotton, some of them were fur, but most of them were leather. He stopped to look at them and when the woman offered to let him try one on, he gladly accepted.

Phil stripped off his jacket, placing it on a hook near the display jackets on the side of the canopy before pulling on the leather jacket the woman offered, and it fit him like a glove. Looking in the mirror, he couldn't help but notice how different he looked and he pretended to flex in a hyper masculine way. A laugh escaped him, and a quick and subtle glance towards the vendor made it apparent that they did not share his amusement. The smile Phil was sporting momentarily slipped off his face as he took off the jacket and returned it to the saleswoman.

After checking to make sure he still had his camera and wallet on his person, he went to reach for his backpack and jacket and found the latter missing off the hook. He looked around frantically and confused before turning to face the vendor.

"Where's my jacket?" Phil asked distressed.

"What jacket?" the woman responded in ignorance.

"My jacket," he emphasized and then motioned towards the hook. "I put it right there and now it's gone!"

"I didn't see no jacket," the woman eyed him suspiciously.

Phil furrowed his brows in despair and continued to look around for a few more seconds before turning to the vendor. "What can I get for 20?"

"20?" the woman replied in shock, "What? You mean dollars?"

This couldn't be good.

With his jacket effectively stolen, Phil had no choice but to sport a teal colored sweatshirt that had the word "Oklahoma" proudly printed on the front along with a picture of a diaper clad boy riding a unicorn. If he had cared just a little bit about what others thought of him, he might have been embarrassed. However, seeing as someone had stolen his jacket, but thankfully, nothing else, he was just happy to be warm.

He continued to walk down the street, smiling and waving at anyone who happened to look his way - no matter how strange their looks got. As he went along, he couldn't help but stop and admire some guitars on display in a small shop. The one that really caught his eye was the red and white Stratocaster.

He had a thing for clichéd classics.

Back in high school, he had really wanted to learn how to play. For a short period of time, his mind had been filled with aspirations to be some amazing guitarist in a band and win the hearts of millions of people - mostly women - around the world. But after a few classes, and really sore fingers, he gave up on that dream and moved onto to more practical things - dance class.

Examining the guitar, his mind wandered back to Melinda. Boy, if he had learned to play the guitar in high school, where would he be now? With one less strike that's for sure. And when did she start counting strikes anyways? The guitar thing was strike two, he wasn't even aware she had started pitching. This game was obviously rigged, and against his favor no less.

Speaking of the Devil, as Phil turned back towards the street to continue on his trek, there across the street was his (could he really call her his?) Melinda. She was leaning against a shop window, looking around cautiously, and smoking yet another cigarette.

Was she an addict? Phil wasn't really into cigarette addicts, but maybe he could look past that vice.

He watched her for a few seconds before deciding that if New York was going to continually throw them together like this, he might as well have a little fun and play along. He crossed the street carefully and quietly as he made his way to her. Luckily, her back was turned and she was looking away to blow the smoke out of her lungs.

He slowed down as he got closer to her and held his lips tight to stop himself from laughing. After a few deep breaths to make sure he didn't give away his cover, he leaned close to her shoulder and proclaimed, "You know kissing a smoker is like licking an ashtray."

Phil had to quickly jump back to avoid her immediate reaction of whipping around and defensively punching. He saw her arm freeze mid-swing when she realized who it was and smiled at her incredulous expression.

Note to self: she obviously knew self-defense, maybe more.

Melinda waited a beat, recollected herself and with a straight faced responded, "Really, what's screwing one like?" They shared a brief chuckle before she looked at him with suspicion. "Are you stalking me?" She was only half joking.

After a moment of taking in her reaction, Phil mimicked her stoic expression before responding with a slow, drawn out, "Yes."

He noticed the corner of her lips curve slightly, before the smile fell completely off her face. She cocked her eyebrow with mirth and horror as she stared at his new sweater. Phil felt a blush color his cheeks after he realized what he was wearing. Attractive.

"My jacket was stolen," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.

Melinda smirked as her eyes rose back up to meet his. "I told you not to get mugged." They shared another smile before she looked around again, as if someone were watching them and asked, "What do you want? Do you want to do something?"

Surprise coated Phil's face and he quickly masked it with a cheeky smile. "What are we? Friends now?" he couldn't resist throwing back at her.

She looked at him unamused, but he could see a twinkle in her eyes and knew she approved of his remark. His smile grew and he was about to suggest her joining him on his exploration, but before he could two voices were heard coming around the corner.

"There she is," Phil looked up and saw a middle aged Chinese women approach them with a man following in tow. "Qiaolian, we've been looking for you everywhere. You said you were just going to the ladies' room."

Melinda opened her mouth to come up with an excuse, but then the woman's eyes turned towards Phil and narrowed in suspicion; so that's where Melinda inherited her facial expressions from. "Hello, I am Qiaolian's mother, Lian. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm-" Phil reached out to shake Lian's hand, but Melinda quickly stepped in between them and interrupted.

"This is Phil, mom," her voice was a bit strained and Phil could clearly see tension between the two women as they stared at each other intensely.

An awkward silence passed before the man standing by Lian came forward and offered Phil his hand. "Hi there Phil, I'm Richard. Melinda's stepfather."

"Hello sir, it's very nice to meet you," Phil said as they shook hands. He was happy to alleviate any tension in the air. They then both pulled away awkwardly and waited for the women to end their silent battle.

"Alright Qiaolian, let's go," Lian broke the silence, "We have reservations to get to. It was nice meeting you Phillip."

Phil rose his hand to wave and say "goodbye", but he was interrupted - once again - by Melinda. "Actually mama," she then turned to Phil and gave him a conspiratorial look, "I can't."

Lian's frown (had she been frowning the whole time?) set in deeper. "Why not? Richard and I took the day off to spend time with you." Then she looked at Phil accusingly. This was a great first impression, wasn't it?

"I know mama, but," she looked at Phil in a sympathetic manner. She was quite a good actress. "Do you mind if they know?" Phil opened his mouth to reply, but Melinda continued without bothering to wait for a response. "Phil's getting some important test results back today and was hoping I could be there with him."

Phil swallowed hard and, after seeing the pleading look Melinda was sending him, turned to Lian with a sad smile and nodded. She, however, seemed skeptical, but before should go refuse Richard stepped in.

"Of course," he allowed, though Phil could tell he was also onto Melinda. "You should be there for your friend."

Lian looked defeated and she gave a stern smile. "Yes, Qiaolian, of course you can support Phillip." She then turned to Phil, "Good luck. I'm sureeverything is just fine." With one last apprehensive glance directed at both Phil and Melinda, Lian turned and began to walk away.

"It was very nice to meet you," Richard repeated with a brief handshake to Phil and then took off after his wife.

Phil looked down at Melinda in disbelief and she had a small, victorious smile on her lips as she turned and began walking in the opposite direction. It took a moment before he realized he was supposed to follow her. He ran after her and caught up in a dozen or so strides - she may or may not have slowed down to wait for him, and they began to walk at an easy pace.

"You know," he said after a silent spell, "That wasn't funny." Melinda looked at him with one brow raised and he continued, "You only get one opportunity to make a first impression and they'll probably always see me as either 'that one sick guy' or 'that lying bastard who stole our daughter for the day.'"

"Why do you care?" she asked with a knowing smirk. She just really wanted to hear him say it.

Phil blushed and felt flustered as he answered, "Well you know," he paused and she just waited for him to go on. "What if we hit it off," he heard her give a soft chuckle. "What if we became a thing?"

"Well I guess it's lucky for you that we'd never become a thing," she remarked coolly. As they came upon a park, and turned to walk through it.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, slightly offended. Dear lord, this better not be about the three strikes thing. He should get at least one of those back in return for her using him to get away from her parents.

"Well, why would I want to be with a guy who would jump into an airplane bathroom stall with the first girl who comes knocking?"

Phil was confused for a moment before he realized what she'd said. "That was with you!" he retorted. Melinda's lips tightened as she withheld a smile and Phil shook his head, grinning. "So, you don't want to date me because we had sex?"

"Anyways," she continued on, blatantly disregarding his question, "You're not even close to being my type."

Phil looked at her, trying in vain to feign a calm composure to hide the offense he felt at her words. "Well," he began pettily, "I'm not looking for a girlfriend anyway."

"And to top it off, you might be gay," she sighed dramatically, putting on a false look of disappointment.

Phil glared at her halfheartedly before explaining, "I mean I want a girlfriend…" Melinda's masquerade broke and he shook his head once more. "Whatever," he brushed her off, "I need to work on getting my ducks in a line first."

"You mean 'in a row?'" she smirked again. God, he could just kiss that smirk permanently off her face.

"Yes, I mean 'ducks in a row,'" he responded indignantly. He was really growing more comfortable with her. They continued walking several paces before he went on. "I have to get everything in order first. I need to get a job, career, house, future…" he trailed off.

"Is Mrs. Right supposed to just come and find you?" Melinda asked skeptically, something she and her mother obviously shared.

"Yep," he answered a bit hesitantly, "Or I'll find her. We'll find each other." Once again, he noticed Melinda holding back a smile and laughter. This was ridiculous. "Hey," he said, "don't worry about me and girls, alright? I do just fine."

Suddenly, Melinda stopped and looked at him thoughtfully. "Here," she said quietly but assertively. Then she unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and held it loosely in one hand while she continued to examine him. She reached for his shirt to pull it down and he jumped away from her.

"Hey," he laughed, "Stop that." He began walking away from her and noticed she was still watching him carefully.

"You're not unattractive," she announced before followed him onward.

Well, at least she found him somewhat attractive.

After leaving the park, she led him to a nearby bar and ordered them both some scotch. They took a seat as the female bartender went back to grab the liquor and placed two shot glasses in front of them. As she poured, Phil looked at Melinda questioningly.

"You do realize it's the middle of the afternoon, don't you?"

She nodded in affirmation and drank her shot with ease before placing the glass back down for another. Phil downed his as fast as he could and made a face as he tried not to gag. Melinda gave the bartender a curt nod and she began to pour two more before he could refuse.

"You know," he said, shaking his head before continuing, "I still have things to do today so-"

"I do, too," Melinda cut him off and immediately reached for her glass.

"Actually," he stopped her before looking at the bartender with faux confidence, "make them doubles."

The two women gave a soft scoff, holding back laughter before the bartender smirked at Phil and said, "They are doubles."

Without waiting for him to grab his glass, Melinda threw back her second shot and Phil couldn't help but watch. He saw how her throat moved up and down and was entranced. It was mesmerizing and he wanted to kiss her neck as she drank.

When she placed her glass back down, he quickly looked away embarrassed and went for his own shot. He downed it just as quickly, but a small gag escaped him. It took him a moment to recompose himself and he noticed Melinda from the corner of his eye watching him with delight.

"Twenty-six," the bartender told them as she placed a pitcher of beer in front of them with two glasses. She looked just as amused by his reaction as Melinda.

"I've got it," he immediately offered and reached for his wallet.

"I know," she replied nonchalantly as she poured them both a glass of beer.

Phil paused for a moment and just stared at her in shock. She really was something wasn't she? He grabbed his wallet and put the twenty-six dollars in the bartender's waiting hand before he turning back to her.

"You know," he told her, "I don't mind that I'm paying. But I hate the fact that you assume that I'm paying." He noticed the bartender and Melinda exchange another knowing look, but continued anyway. "I mean, at least make a move. You know, like, at least make the reach for it."

She simply looked at him over her glass as she drank her beer, completely unfazed. Phil sighed in defeat and grabbed his glass to drink. Then, he watched as Melinda grabbed another cigarette and lit it. She looked kind of hot when she smoked. This was definitely a vice Phil could overlook.

"What if you don't get all your ducks in a row?" she asked, reviving their earlier conversation.

"I'll get them in a row," he replied simply, "In fact, I'll even get them in a line."

Melinda nodded, but he could see she wasn't done with this conversation yet.

"What if it takes twenty years?" she countered.

"It won't take twenty years, it'll take five." Another raised eyebrow had him questioning his response. "Six. Maybe. Tops," he revised.

"You don't even have a job."

Now she was just having fun.

"Not even an idea of a job."

"See, now that's where you're wrong." It was his turn to smirk knowingly, though it could just be the alcohol affecting his system. "I'm interested in all this stuff going on with the internet."

"Well that's good," Melinda reassured him, hiding behind her glass. Phil eyed her suspiciously; she was more complicated than that. "I hear that's gonna be huge."

"It will be," he said defensively.

"I'm sure."

"Are you being sarcastic?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

"No," her lips curled up slightly, "I think you'll be beating women away with a stick - with your line of ducks."

He glared at her kiddingly. "You really think that in six years, a guy like me with a job, a house, a car, - a nice car, named Lola - and, and a future," he slurred a bit. Oh yeah, it's definitely the alcohol taking some effect. "You think I'm gonna have trouble finding someone to fall in love with me?"

"No," she shrugged as she took another sip of her beer, "I think you'll have a big problem."

"You know what…"

Phil looked around and found a pen laying on the table. He grabbed a napkin and tried writing on it, before he realized he'd forgotten to click the pen open. Once that was fixed, he began scribbling down his contact information on the napkin.

"What are you doing?" Melinda asked curiously.

"I am about to give you my parents' phone number," he said as he looked down at the digits swimming around in front of him. That was the right number, wasn't it?

"You live with your parents?"

"No," he turned to look at her defensively before correcting himself. "Well… yes. But not in six years I won't. I'll have my own house, remember?"

"What does six years have to do with anyth-"

"Well if you let me finish," he interrupted her for once. He grabbed the napkin and placed it in front her. "Six years from now you can call this phone number and my parents will answer the phone. You ask them how to reach me," he paused and whispered the next part, "they'll give you the number." Melinda gave a soft chuckle, but he went on. "Then, you'll call my house and when my beautiful wife answers the phone you can ask her where to send the twenty bucks you owe me."

"Twenty bucks?" Melinda scoffed, "Aren't you supposed to be some hot shot business guy with a car named Lola?"

They looked at each other challengingly and Phil licked his lips with a nod. "You know what, yeah. Fine. Fifty." He noticed Melinda give a small smile of approval. "Fifty big ones."

"Fifty it is," she accepted and took another drag of her cigarette.

They tapped their beer glasses together in a toast of agreement and finished off the rest of their drinks.

He couldn't wait to take her fifty bucks.

Once they had finished their drinks, Melinda took Phil to Central Park upon his request. He wanted to finally take some photos with his camera and he figured that'd be a great place to start.

When they got there, he aimed his camera in several directions, but didn't actually snap any photos. He just wanted the perfect photos. Nothing too mundane like some random kids or buildings. But nothing too touristy like all the trees or background scenery.

"Anytime soon, Dorothea Lange," Melinda pressured impatiently.

"I'm trying to save my film," he tried as an excuse, and continued looking around for something to shoot. Maybe he could take a few more photos of her, that'd be fine right?

"For what?" she stole his attention away once more. "This is your trip, it's happening right now."

Without any warning, she pulled the camera away from him and he reached out protectively, asking her to be careful with it. She ignored everything he said and threw her cigarette on the ground, putting it out with the sole of her shoe before holding the camera more carefully. Then she aimed the camera at him and he instantly put his hands up to block her.

"You're not shooting me!" he exclaimed and she responded by simply placing the camera between her legs and snapping a photo - she might be a little more intoxicated than she let on. "Oh, great. So all the places I've traveled. Mom'll love that one," he quipped.

"Look alive," she commanded as she took a candid photo of him mid-speech.

Phil rolled his eyes and turned away, but she continued to shoot the photos.

"Just look natural."

He gave her the cheesiest smile he could muster and she snapped the photo with a soft giggle - wait, did she just giggle? Before he could react, she came closer and took another photo. She began just giving him random commands and poses while taking the pictures.

After another five or six photos, Phil stopped posing and began walking towards her. "Okay, that's enough for now. Give me back the camera."

Melinda had a mischievous smirk as stepped back away from him and continued to shoot photos. He saw the light flash several more times as he followed her with his arms reaching out. Suddenly, she stopped and looked at the camera closely as he came right up to her.

"Are you done now?" he asked somewhat impatiently.

"You're out of film," she said and had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

Phil frowned and examined the camera after she gave it back to him. "What the-" he looked up and followed her as she walked on. "How did you shoot a whole roll?"

He wasn't going to admit that he shot a few photos of her at the airport.

Melinda shrugged, the look of embarrassment instantly wiped away from her face, and she led him to the nearest convenient store. She told him to go explore the street vendors while she went in and he agreed. This was the part of the city he was a lot more interested in.

After five minutes, Melinda left the store with a new box of film for Phil. It was the least she could do after dragging him around at her will. She took out the film roll from the camera and dropped it in her jacket pocket - he wouldn't want it anyway after their trip to the park. With the new roll placed in the camera, she looked around until she found Phil checking out a makeshift flea market.

His eyes met hers and she motioned for him to come out and join her. He saw the film box in her hand and smiled appreciatively at her before following her out.

"Did you get the right film?" he asked her playfully and she shook her head before they engaged in their playful banter.

They walked peacefully together towards the Hudson River before Melinda reached out for his camera once more. "Give that for a second."

He gave it up easily, despite their excursion at the park, and she ran over to the railing. She took a picture before the street lights above them came on and then one more after. Phil smiled as he watched her; it was obvious she enjoyed the camera.

They stood there in silence for a moment and before Phil had the chance to say something he'd been wanting to say all day, she offered him back his camera.

"I have to go," her voice was laced with disappointment. Maybe he was her type.

"Okay," Phil took his camera back and tried to play it cool.

They stood there silently and watched each other almost expectantly. Impatient as she was, Melinda decided to take a step forward and pressed her lips firmly over his. They were softer than he imagined and tasted a bit like ash. Before he got a chance to respond or deepen the kiss, before he could even place a hand on her, Melinda pulled away with her lips curled upwards.

They stood staring at each other once more for several more seconds and Phil decided he wanted to take a shot.

"So-"

"Don't." Melinda interrupted, "You'll ruin it."

And with that she was off. Phil turned and watched her walk away, but he couldn't help but smile all the more. He thought about everything they did that day - the photos, the bet, their kiss - and his grin grew. They had spent the entire day together.

Once she was out of sight, he turned in the opposite direction and began walking back to his brother's apartment. The entire way there all he could think about was how soft her lips were and how he could get used to the taste of ash.

He realized halfway to his destination he never got her number - he didn't even know her last name. Did she live here or did she live in Los Angeles? How was he ever going to get a hold of her again?

His heart sank at the thought, but he refused to let that damper his mood. Whether he saw her again or not, it didn't change the fact that they had spent the entire day together and they had fun. And who knew? Maybe they would see each other again, just like they happened to run into each other in this big city. No one could know for sure whether this was their last adventure together or not.

But, there was one thing he could be sure of:

He was definitely her type.


	3. New Year's Encounter

OMG it's here! So sorry for the long way, but hopefully the equally long chapter will make up for that! MANY MANY MAAAANY thanks to my awesome Beta elle-you-oh for, not just editing this in like a day, but also for constant encouragement and incentives :3 You're awesome!

This chapter deviates a bit from the movie and has some extra scenes, but for the most part it still follows the plot. It changed just so we can keep characterization now and in future chapters. :)

So as always, I love to hear your thoughts and comments. They are always great! And do please

Enjoy~

* * *

 **3 Years Later**

Melinda released a satisfied moan as she collapsed on top of her boyfriend, both of them covered in a thin layer of sweat. She rolled over onto her side of the bed, before quickly moving over and resting her hand on his chest as she laid her head comfortably on his shoulder.

"That was, um," her boyfriend panted while he tried to catch his breath, "That was good. Really good. Great."

"Only good?" she asked the smirk on her face betraying her slightly threatening tone as she began tracing random figures on his bare chest.

He gave her a classic eye roll, a habit she was sure he picked up from her, before acquiescing to her, "Alright, that was pretty damn awesome. Okay?"

Melinda simply raised a brow to him which elicited another playful groan.

"Mind boggling, out of this world, incredible. Any of those do it for you?"

"Much better."

Melinda began to settle down for their post coittal cuddle, but before she could comfortably curl up into his side, her boyfriend pulled the covers off of himself and got up. Her brows furrowed as she watched him.

"Donald?" she started as he pulled his pants back on and buttoned them. "Where are you going?"

"I have to get back to work," he explained simply after putting on his shirt.

Melinda just continued to stare and reminded herself to be grateful. Being a doctor meant that Donald didn't always have time to spend with her. They could usually scrape together a dinner here and there, but most of their time spent together was visceral and superficial. A quickie, usually in her room - once in her kitchen - and then he'd have to head back to the hospital. She was lucky when he was able to get Christmas off and he'd spent the entire holiday with her cooped up at her townhouse. That was the most amount of consecutive time they had spent together for a while. And she was hoping today would be similar.

It was New Year's Eve and Donald had gotten the day off again. She knew that when he said he had to work, he just meant go on his computer and correspond with his colleagues. Although, she would prefer if he spent the day with her, she understood he had other responsibilities and was more than happy to just have him over.

After lying in bed for another ten minutes, Melinda's phone rang and pulled her out of her thoughts. She immediately got up to answer it - Donald didn't really like noisy distractions - and began getting dressed.

"Hello?" she answered as she looked for a shirt to put on, but suddenly stopped. "Yes, this is she. Oh, well thank you. Yes, I can do that. I'll see you then. Goodbye."

Yes! She did it! Melinda was one of the top three candidates the director wanted to see to be a stunt double for the latest blockbuster action movie starring Lucy Liu. Originally, they brought her on as a random background fighter because of her experience in martial arts - she wasn't going to kid herself into believing they saw or recognized her in the few indie films she taken part in - but then Lucy's double broke her leg while jumping off of a moving car. They offered the position openly to any of the stunt actors and Melinda knew she was the best candidate to fill in. She had the most experience out of the possible stunt doubles and was the best fighter. All she needed to do now was familiarize herself with the fight sequence, which really wouldn't be hard.

"Hey Donald," she called down as she pulled on black yoga pants and changed into her usual workout tank top. "Can you do me a favor and go through the fight sequence I need to know for this movie? They want me to come in and demonstrate it later today."

Donald had some experience in fighting, too. He didn't have the years that Melinda had, but he could handle her and was great when she needed a last minute sparring partner - that is, if he was free.

That was actually how they had met. Melinda's best friend, Bobbi Morse, needed someone to come in to her martial arts studio to help demonstrate a difficult move. Her usual person was sick with the flu and, after begging and groveling, Melinda agreed to help. Donald was one of Bobbi's best students and they had an odd number of students that day so Melinda was paired with him. Needless to say, he was more of a challenge for her, but not much. In their short interaction, Donald had piqued Melinda's interest and the two have dated since. She had always liked someone who could hold their own.

After waiting several seconds and not receiving a response from him, Melinda secured her shoes and walked to the top of the stairs. She paused and saw Donald packing up his things and getting ready to leave.

"Donald, where are you going?" her voice dripped with foreign insecurity.

"I'm leaving, Mel." he stated stoically while continuing to pack.

Melinda came down the steps and approached him calmly. "Why? I'll be leaving soon and you can have the place to yourself. You can work as much as you need."

"No, Mel." he sighed and turned to face her. Melinda knew what was coming from the look on his face. "I'm leaving. I can't do his anymore. It's been fun, but-" he trailed off and went back to packing his things. "I'm sorry."

"No, no," the director called out in disappointment. "That is far too aggressive and the sequence was off."

Melinda took control of her breathing before turning to the director with an expressionless look. The stunt double beside her was bent over, half in pain and half in exhaustion, as he panted to regain his breath. She knew she had landed a few unchoreographed hits when the other double unsuccessfully blocked them and landed flat on his back. But he should really be more prepared and well trained. Hell, she could probably train him and give him notes on how to perfect his execution. And don't even get her started on his posture and positioning. It was a bit ridiculous and amateurish.

"Ms. May," the director had pulled her out of her thoughts. She'd missed the last minute of his ramblings. "You have to remember that this man was Carly's lover. She trusted him more than anyone and he just betrayed her. Left her out of the blue with no warning. Would she really attack him so fervently and unyieldingly?"

She knew that if it had been her, the man would be lucky to just leave with a few scrapes and bruises. Had she really been in a similar position, Melinda would have probably left the guy with a broken larynx; if she was holding back. But, maybe this character was different. Maybe.

With a short nod, she expressed her understanding to the director.

He gave an exasperated sigh before motioning for them to get back into position with his hand. "All right, from the top. And remember, she had loved him, he left her. Go."

"I can't believe it. They wouldn't see real talent and skill if it roundhouse kicked them in the temple."

After not being able to meet the director's vision three times, Melinda was dismissed and she immediately called to meet up with Bobbi and their other friend, Peggy. After she told them about her break-up and disastrous audition, they all agreed to take a walk on the beach. For the last half hour, Melinda walked quietly as she listened to her friends go on and on how none of those things mattered. Bobbi continually criticized the director and casting team while Peggy complained about Donald's various faults.

"And with Donald," Peggy began again, "I felt like he was just too selfish. It was always about him and what he wanted to do; his ambitions above all others."

Melinda gave her friend a questioning look because she knew that was definitely not one of his vices. In fact, she sometimes found him too selfless. He was always putting others before himself, even if it meant risking his own safety. Last year, he volunteered as a firefighter on his days off and didn't hesitate to run into a burning building one night when he heard a child scream. He then proceeded to perform CPR and first aid while his team put out the flames. Arrogant, yes. Selfish, not so much.

Easily reading her friend's expression, Peggy began reconsidering her statement and shrugging in agreement. "Alright, perhaps he wasn't _that_ bad in that sense…" she trailed off and there was a short silence before she quickly reiterated, "But you're still much better off without him. He never really made time for you."

"Yeah," Bobbi quickly agreed, "and as for that film, there are so many other prospects out there. You are well trained, professional and pretty kickass. You'll find a gig in no time."

"Exactly!" Peggy exclaimed. "Oh, and you're still coming to the party tonight right?"

"Of course, she is."

Between her friends' constant need to reassure her and agreements with each other, Melinda hadn't had a chance to say a single thing since she'd told them about her day - not that she minded at all. She wasn't exactly one for many words, but at this point she might as well have not been there at all. They seemed to be making all the calls and decisions for her.

"But she can't come alone," Peggy had begun to argue. "I mean, not that you need a man or anything Mel, but it _is_ New Years and having a good snog seems like a very American thing to do."

"What about a blind date?" Bobbi resolved.

Oh dear lord, please don't let it come to that. The last blind date that Melinda had agreed to go on resulted in her threatening to use a nail gun to pin him into place while she kicked his ass if he didn't take no for an answer. Their date had been fun at first, but then the guy turned out to be a complete tool and wanted to sleep with her after one dinner - she was passed that phase of her life. Needless to say, her self-defense training came in real handy and he hadn't spoken to her since.

"A blind date on New Year's?" Peggy came to her rescue. "She may as well go to a local pub at midnight and kiss a complete stranger. That is _not_ the point! It's supposed to be good luck or some nonsense for your relationship with that person. You're American for God's sake. How do I have a better grip of your traditions than you do?"

"Well how about-"

"How about I handle this one on my own?" Melinda finally piped up, tired of their tete-a-tete. She was a grown woman. Hell, she was an _attractive_ grown woman, too. She could find a date.

Melinda spent half an hour at her home trying to decide whether or not she should even look for a date. Maybe she could just go alone and if fate were to deem it necessary, she could find a date at the party. That was reasonable, wasn't it? She was a strong, independent woman and she could very well go to a party alone if she wanted to.

That decision lasted about five minutes, then Melinda found herself going through her address book for an old flame. It couldn't be that hard, could it?

"Oh I'm so sorry, Mrs. Idaho. My condolences. And have a Happy New Year, too. Goodbye," she hung up.

Twenty minutes and fifteen numbers later, she was about ready to give up. A few of the guys were happily married, three were finally out of the closet and one was dead. Perhaps she _would_ be going to the party alone after all. But what's wrong with that anyway? It was the 21st century. Women were doing all sorts of independent things nowadays, like being single mothers!

With a harsh sigh, she grabbed the address book, ready to give up. As she pulled it closer to her, a piece of paper slipped out from between the later - and mostly unused - pages. Curiously, she picked up and read it trying to remember the name.

 _Phil Coulson, 310-485-6853. $50_

Phil Coulson… why did that soun- New York! He was the goofy, pretty cute guy she'd met in New York for a day. Now why didn't that go anywhere? Besides the stupid three strikes; she didn't believe in it anyways. She was just trying to put him off.

Should she call him? New Year's wasn't just about romance, she _could_ bring a friend to the party instead of a date. There wasn't anything wrong with that. Right?

Before she could completely process what she was doing, the phone was at her ear and ringing. It only rung three times before she finally heard a response.

"Hello?" a woman answered.

Was this his girlfriend? Wait… no. He gave her his parents' number. Did they still live there? This was so stupid. He might not even-

"Hello-o?" the voice repeated.

"Hi," she hesitated. "I'm looking for Phil Coulson. Does he still live there?"

"Yeah, just hold on a second." A moment later Melinda could hear the woman yelling away from the phone. "Phil! Sweetie! There's a lovely sounding girl on the phone for you!"

Melinda felt her cheeks uncharacteristically feel hot. It didn't take long before she heard a male's voice answer the phone and a click indicating his mother had hung up.

"Hello?"

"Phil." she said plainly, not exactly sure how to proceed. "It's Melinda."

"Melinda…" he trailed off as he tried to remember who she was. To her surprise, it had only taken him a quick moment before he went on. "Oh! Melinda! From New York." he sounded excited and she bit back a smile. "What's up?"

Melinda held back a snort as his failed attempt of playing cool. "Do you like tea?" she asked with her unfounded nervousness dissipated.

She could almost hear him smile into the phone as he gave her his simple response, "Give me an hour."

Melinda spent the next forty-five minutes tidying up her townhouse after changing into a plain black shirt and jeans. She made sure her shirt was alluring but didn't give too much away and that her jeans accentuated her natural curves.

After that, not much more could be done because there was a firm knock on her door. Making sure she hadn't lost track of time, Melinda looked at the clock on her wall. He was fifteen minutes early; was he really that excited to see her again?

With a deep breath, she ran her hands over her shirt and went to open the door. She let a small smile settle on her face as she got ready to greet him, but it dropped abruptly. At her door was an attractive, well built, blonde man. That was not Phil.

"Can I help you?" she asked and hoped she didn't sound too rude.

"Melinda, it's me," the stranger responded, but Melinda only raised an eyebrow in confusion. "You know, Phil Coulson. From New York."

"You're not Phil," she said firmly and glared at him in lighthearted suspicion.

From behind a bush, Melinda heard laughter and the Phil Coulson she had known - and had sex with - came out from hiding. The blonde man wore a triumphant smirk and held his hand out expectantly.

"I told you she wouldn't fall for it," he revealed as Phil handed him a crisp twenty dollar bill.

Melinda immediately caught on and rolled her eyes.

"Clint," the blonde man introduced himself and offered her a handshake. "Phil's older, smarter brother."

"It's nice to meet you," she replied genuinely accepting his hand. She then turned to Phil and gave him a small, lopsided smile. "He's too good looking to be you."

Phil gave a false look of hurt and shook his head in disbelief. She took a moment to take in his features and couldn't help but notice that he hadn't changed at all. His eyes were still the same mesmerizing shade of blue, he had the same goofy haircut and the same stupidly charming smile. Melinda knew if she wasn't careful, he was someone she could definitely see herself being interested in. More than she already was that is.

"What did she say?" Clint had asked, pulling her out of her thoughts. She had turned towards Phil when she spoke and he didn't have a chance to read her lips.

"Oh," Phil responded to Clint in sign language and told him that Melinda said he wasn't good looking enough to be him.

Melinda observed the men's interactions and grew suspicious of Phil's translations. She saw Clint shake his head as he looked at Phil disbelieving. Her suspicions were affirmed and she turned to Clint to fix any misunderstandings.

"I said you were too good looking to be him," she said each word careful, hoping that Clint could read lips. It didn't take long for her to find out.

"See," Clint gave Phil a proud, pointed look. "She said I'm good looking."

"She's lying!" Phil insisted through signing.

"Whatever," Clint waved his off. "I'll see you later. It was nice meeting you Melinda."

She simply nodded politely in response and he waved as he left the two alone for their tea. The two of them stood silently outside her front door several seconds. They were both taking the other person in.

"Hi," he said goofily.

"Hi."

"You look different," he told her while simultaneously signing. Her response was a simple raised brow and he continued a bit embarrassed. "I mean a good different. Great. I'm still signing aren't I?"

Melinda held back a laugh as he continued to fumble. "Why don't you come in?" She turned and entered her house without waiting for him.

He followed her diligently and before the door could close all the way, they were all over each other.

Neither knew who started it, but they found themselves fighting for dominance with their tongues as their hands roamed the other's body. Phil pushed Melinda slightly until she was leaning over her couch before she firmly pushed him off. They sprang apart after her sudden change of mind and moved to quickly straighten out their clothes.

"I'll get the tea ready," she said as she scurried to the kitchen with her head down.

Phil stood there, staring after her, dazed and confused. Did she not enjoy the kiss? Did he do something wrong? What happened?

He waited several beats before finally walking in after her and found her pour hot water into a ceramic tea pot. It only took her a few seconds before she began talking to him.

"I'm not like that anymore," she told him plainly and Phil just stood there in silent confusion. "I didn't call you just to have sex."

The penny dropped and Phil blushed. "That's not what I- I didn't mean to," he sighed and looked at her with a sorrowful, puppy dog gaze that affected her in ways it shouldn't. "I'm sorry. That's not why I came. I just… Do you want to get something to eat?"

Melinda's eyes shot to his face and he felt the heat settle onto it once more.

"I mean… are you hungry? Have you eaten today?"

Her lips curved into a simple, yet breath taking smile.

"I'll get my coat."

"How can you live in LA and not have a car?" Melinda asked incredulously.

She pulled into a dark lot behind a closed shop and parked in the first space next to the dumpster. Her car was an old, but reliable, black 1995 Toyota minivan. It had been with her since she first moved to LA and was also known to be the holding station for the various outfits she had needed to wear on set. When she did a few indie films, costumes and outfits for the stunt team were usually self-provided for and improvised.

"I had a car- two cars," Phil insisted as he followed her out of the vehicle and to the trunk where she pulled out a black scarf. "One of them is a beautiful, classic 1962 red Corvette currently sitting in my parents' garage."

Melinda wrapped the scarf around herself and denied the strong urge to roll her eyes at him - of course he was some kind of car guy. He was a Captain America fanboy and a car guy, great.

"The other one," Phil went on after her nonresponse. "I sold because I needed the capital for my business," he inserted smoothly.

There was a light in Melinda's eyes as she remembered the pretense behind him giving her his number and the note of '$50.'

"The duck plan," she recalled, "You still have two and half more years until you're rich."

"Well," Phil couldn't hold back a small, smug smile as he licked his lips and tried to give a humble brush off.

"Is your wife going to live with you in parents' basement?"

And there she was. That was the Melinda he remembered meeting in New York, giving him a false sense of praise before jokingly ripping it away.

"I don't live with my parents," he shot her a lighthearted glare before searching through his wallet as she secured her car, "I'm just picking up a few things because I'm moving." He held a business card up towards her.

" ?"

"It's an online diaper delivery company," Phil stated proudly, but was met with an amused gaze from Melinda. "People order diapers from us and we deliver to their door step. It's a very good business plan."

Melinda resisted the urge to laugh, "Diapers?"

Phil scoffed at her lack of faith in him and they began walking towards the main part of town. It was only 6:00, but it was already pretty dark and where she had parked didn't help anything either. As they went towards a better lit area, he realized Melinda brought them somewhere very secluded and they'd have to go behind buildings and a small alley if they wanted to avoid walking all the way around. But he supposed it was it worth it if they didn't have to pay the ridiculously priced parking meters.

As they got closer to the alley way that would lead them back to civilization, Phil began feeling weary and heard unsettling noises around him. If Melinda was experiencing any of the trepidation he was, she certainly wasn't showing it. He moved a bit closer to her and nearly grabbed hold of her hand - whether for his benefit or hers, he couldn't tell.

Before they could make it out to the well-lit street, a crash from behind made both of them stop and turn around startled. Without hesitating this time, Phil grabbed Melinda's hand and turned around to quickly lead her away. Instead of making a clean break, Phil found himself chest-to-chest with a man in all black clothes.

"Not too fast, jumpy," the man had a deep, scratchy voice and his eyes were trained on them with hawk like focus.

Phil tried to pull Melinda closer to him and shield her, but was met with a strong resistance. He kept watch on the man in front of him, but quickly glanced behind to find another man holding his date with a gun pressed against her.

"Don't do anything stupid and my friend here won't have to hurt your girlfriend," the obviously dominant one explained. A malicious smile curled the corner of his lips as he took a step closer to run a finger down Melinda's face and she turned away defiantly. "It'd be a shame too. She's cute."

"Hey, keep your hands off her," Phil demanded.

Their assailants were both broad shouldered and taller than Phil. They were dirty from head to toe, but were obviously not homeless from the condition of their clothes. With piercing eyes and a well-rehearsed scowl, they had a nice act going on. They probably didn't have regular jobs, but made - or stole - enough money to live off.

The boss eyed Phil to size him up and gave an amused scoff. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Phil's hands clenched and unclenched in disgust. His jaw tightened and the man just shook his head and turned back to Melinda, sure that Phil didn't have it in him to do anything. When he caressed her cheek once more, Phil took a swing as his head.

The man holding the gun held Melinda with a tighter grip as his partner stood back up and wiped some saliva and drool from the corner of his mouth. Phil held back a groan as he shook his hand in pain - there was definitely going to be a bruise there. Before he could get ready to land another hit, the man he'd just punched had him pinned to the wall with a knife against his throat.

"I'll tell you what," he said in a low and angry tone, "You give me all the money you have and I'll _think_ about letting you and girlfriend go without hurting either one of you. And trust me, I can have fun with he-"

Before he could continue with his threat, both of the men's attention shifted when they heard a groan and a large thud. The man with the gun was on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laid on the ground in pain and temporarily paralyzed.

Melinda shot the man pinning Phil to the wall a challenging glare as she rolled her hand in to a fist and positioned herself ready for his attack. Full of adrenaline and fueled with anger, the man came at her with his knife poised and ready. She easily deflected his arm, trapped it under hers and slammed her elbow into his, causing him to drop his knife and yell in pain.

Still holding him in place and with her back to him, she threw her back elbow into his ribs, which made him bend over, before she positioned her foot behind his and easily threw him to the ground. She made sure his back hit the pavement with enough force to leave him in the same immobile state as his partner.

Phil stood and stared at her in awe and shock, forgetting about the pain his hand was in. She simply flipped her hair behind her shoulder before grabbing his unwounded hand and tugging him along.

Once they were on the street, Phil's voice returned and he had to stop himself from gushing over Melinda's martial arts skills. They walked in silence for a block before a soft chuckle escaped his lips.

"I was right," she threw him a confused, questioning stare, "You do know self-defense, I guessed as much in New York. Pretty impressive." Amazing, outstanding, awesome. That was just so cool to watch - and a little scary. But she didn't need to know that.

A small smile spread on her face and she shrugged. "I've been doing it for years," then she glanced as his hand and noticed slight bruising starting to form. "You need a little training," she smirked. "and some ice."

She took him to a local coffee shop where they ordered a cup of coffee, tea and some ice. Phil moved to get his wallet, but Melinda already had her out and was getting her card out to pay.

"I appreciate the move," he joked after remembering their bar conversation in New York, "but I've got this."

"It's fine," she insisted, giving the cashier her card before he could.

"Thanks," they shared a small smile.

After getting their items, Melinda took the bag of ice and wrapped it around Phil's knuckles using her scarf. They took their drinks to go and decided to go for a short walk through the park before settling on a restaurant to eat.

"My punching wasn't that bad," Phil suddenly brought up as they strolled down a path. "It was pretty effective."

"And would have broken some bones if you had swung any harder," she commented matter-of-factly. "Here," she said gently as she took both their drinks and put it down on a nearby bench.

Without any further explanation, she began positioning him with his fists up and feet shoulder length apart with one slightly in front of the other. She then copied his pose as if to demonstrate how he should visualize it.

"You," she started pointedly, "swung like this."

Her arm retracted before she threw a large hook. Phil watched her intently and recognized the awkwardness of his attack.

"The position you two were in, you should have swung like this."

He observed carefully as she moved in slow motion. She pulled her hand back, shot it forward with a twist of her wrist. There was forced in her punch and he was mesmerized by her movements. It was graceful, but deadly in the right areas.

When she stood up straighter and stared at him, he realized she expected him to try it. He recoiled his arm like he witnessed her do and swung much faster. With a shake of her head, she came forward and corrected him. Her hand straightened his back and she held his arm to lead it. As they punched the air together, Phil couldn't help but want to continue this moment for as long as he could.

"You're a really good instructor," he told her after finally getting the move right and was given a smile in response.

After half an hour of her patient instruction and of Phil making a fool of himself, they finally decided they were hungry enough to stop. As they walked towards the street full of different restaurant choices, Phil realized that they fell into conversation fairly easily - or at least, he could talk and she would listen. It took them ten minutes to finally settle on a place to eat and as they walked there, he suddenly remembered something.

"So how's Bon Jovi?" he asked almost bitterly. "Still rocking it out?"

It took Melinda a moment before she recognized the old nickname. She tried not to laugh when she heard the obvious attempt to hide his disgust as he muttered her ex-boyfriend's name. It had been years since she last even _thought_ of him.

"His name was Grant and he's in Seattle with a new band," she shrugged. She didn't think it was important to tell him how he lied, cheated and tried to hit her once. He was a sociopath and out of her life so it didn't very much matter anymore.

"Hope he knows how to work an espresso machine," Phil smiled to himself.

"Coming from a diaper salesman?" she fired back.

"Are you seeing anyone else?" he quickly changed the subject and realized he should have probably asked this before they left her house or had a brief make-out session.

"Would I be out with you if I was?" she asked and he could see the spite she was trying to keep in.

"So," he tried to approach the subject tactfully, "the latest breakup? Baseball player or MMA fighter?" Smooth, Coulson. Smooth.

She furrowed her brows almost defensively, "Who said I had a breakup?"

"I've very good at reading people," he confessed nonchalantly. "So, you gonna tell me about him?"

"Nope." she answered curtly and a bit irritated. Why did he have to be so infuriating?

"Who dumped who? You dump him?" he considered her silence for a moment before concluding, "No, he dumped you." Idiot.

"I'm not talking about it," she told him. He could probably read all the answers he wanted off of her if he was that good.

They continued walking in silence for a moment before Phil spoke up once more. "Fine," he agreed, to Melinda suspicion. "Then I won't talk at all."

"You won't talk?" she didn't even hold in her laugh. "I won't either." Easy enough, she didn't talk much anyway.

They nodded in agreement and zipped their lips just as they came upon the Chinese restaurant. She held the door open for him and he silently motioned her forward. With a nod of thanks, she entered and he followed her. They put up two fingers to the hostess who showed them a table. After looking over the menus and pointing to their orders to the waitress, they simply sat there in silence and stared at one another.

This was going to be fun.

Phil was the first one to try and make Melinda break. He took the pot of hot tea and began pouring her a cup. Suddenly, he pulled the pot as high as his arm could reach and continued to pour from the changed height. Melinda simply stared at him with a cock brow and smirked. It was impressive that he managed to finish the task without spilling much tea. That would have ruined the fun.

Next, he picked up his water glass and began to drink messily. He left a small enough gap between his lips and the glass that water spilled with every sip he took. His eyes were locked on Melinda's as he challenged her to not react. He saw her restrain a smile and look around to make sure the staff didn't get irritated by his immature antics.

Without breaking eye contact, Melinda began to drink from her own glass and just continued to stare. Time to up the ante. Once Phil gave up the slapstick endeavor and put his cup down, Melinda shot a spit of water at him playfully. Phil gave a small jump and quickly grabbed his napkin to block the next two shots. Two can play this game.

They both reached for their water glasses and took sips as they playfully attacked each other with water. Thankfully, the restaurant was more or less empty so no one except the staff had to suffer their immaturity. Phil really brought out the worst in her.

After a few seconds of their water fight, Melinda suddenly ducked under the table. Confused, Phil leaned over to see what she was doing when he felt two small, but warm hands grip his thighs. He jumped, nearly knocking over the table as she attempted to crawl out from under the table. Oh, now she was just playing dirty.

Before she could really cause visible damage, he stood up and walked to the other side of the table and they resolved to sit in the opposite seat. Their food soon followed and they nodded to the waitress gratefully with feigned innocence. If the staff was annoyed with their goofiness, they certainly weren't saying anything.

Continuing their game of silence, the pair began eating and kept a steady amount of eye contact. There was a playful glint in Melinda's eyes and Phil knew she was planning her next course of attack.

For several minutes the meal was peaceful and surprisingly not awkward despite the silence that the two were maintaining. It was almost a comfortable silence that most couples didn't share until years of adjusting to the other's pace. It was nice and Phil couldn't help but admire Melinda as she ate her food.

The peace was broken, however, shortly after when Melinda began to choke. She was coughing and wheezing and Phil gave her a concerned looked. When she bent over the table, he rose slightly to see if there was anything he could do before he just sat back down and sipped his tea. His look of concern quickly turned to amusement and he began to play ball.

She looked up and reached desperately for something to drink and teasingly brought his cup of tea close to her before pulling back and sipping it once more, but she didn't relent. You know, she could be a great actress if she really wanted to. She could hold a straight face, her expressions, when she wanted them to be, were just that - expressive - and when she put her mind to do something, she didn't back down. He had to give her kudos on that.

At some point in her performance, the waitress came over with a look of concern and he quickly shooed her away. He had to stop himself from smiling when Melinda shot him a confused and despaired look. Eventually, the waitress left after his assurance and Phil continued to watch the show.

Not much longer, Melinda collapsed onto the table and laid there motionlessly. As if nothing had happened, Phil simply wiped his mouth and continued to stare at her. He looked around and saw the concerned expressions from the staff and he waved them off cheerfully. How long could she play dead? He'd give her ten minutes tops.

After three minutes of looking around and checking his watch, he heard Melinda sigh as she sat up and moved the hair from her face. He smiled at the staff who were still watching them before settling back to watch his beautiful date.

"Alright," she gave, "I'll talk."

Phil took another drink of his tea with a triumphant chuckle before telling her, "My brother's deaf, Mel. I can go _days_ without talking."

She let out a soft scoff at that. "Funny, you don't seem like the type."

"And you don't seem like the type to break first," he shot back.

Melinda had to hand it to him, he was good at reading people. And he was right. She could probably go days without speaking either, but something about Phil's silence felt odd and foreign to her. They'd only known each other for a short period of time, but being around him and not hearing him fill the silence with his mindless chatter just made her feel off. But she'd never admit she it.

"I met him in a class," Melinda confessed quietly as they strolled down the street, much like earlier in the night. She wasn't quite sure why she was telling him this. Normally, she wouldn't really open up to anyone but something about Phil was…

"So you went back to school?" he interrupted her train of thought.

"Martial arts class," she smiled, "I was helping out an instructor friend of mine."

Phil grinned at that. What was he right about this time?

"Knew you'd make a great trainer," he praised and she shook her head modestly. She'd only helped Bobbi out a handful of times. "But that wasn't the question," he tried to broach the subject lightly. "Who dumped whom?"

Melinda took a deep breath and contemplated not telling him. It wasn't really much of his business anyway. But, she supposed, they did sort of have a deal. And she was definitely a woman of her word.

"He left."

An expression landed on Phil's face that Melinda couldn't quite read. Was it disgust? Regret? Confusion? It wasn't pity, thankfully, but whatever it was, it wasn't pleasant or happy either.

Phil couldn't fathom what she'd just told him. Her ex-boyfriend left her? But why? He didn't see anything wrong with her, in any way. She may be a bit quiet, but when she spoke it was always witty and funny. After the alley incident, he could tell she was fearless, in a different way. Definitely a prankster, after that stunt she pulled at the restaurant. And also… he couldn't quite describe her but she was… she was warm. Why would anyone walk away from that?

"Wait," a thought occurred to him, "I have something to ask." He took her raised brow as a signal to go on. "What was strike one?"

A look of surprise flashed across Melinda's face. Did he still remember that? From four years ago? She had to resist the urge to smile because it was obvious she had made a bigger impact on him than she had thought.

"Strike two was that I didn't play guitar," he rolled his eyes, "and three was that I didn't like the _right_ superhero-which by the way I need to discuss with you because you obviously don-"

"I had to make the first move," Melinda cut him off. He really was a Captain America fanboy.

"What? But I-" he cut himself off.

He _was_ going to make the first move. In the airport, he was planning to go over and talk to her. Charm the pants off of her - literally in his fantasies of that day. And that wasn't really fair, was it? She couldn't give him a strike before he was even up to bat. He never stood a chance in that case and that wasn't-

"So what are your plans for tonight?" she asked, breaking the silence he hadn't realized had settled between them, as they approached her car. Had they really been walking for that long?

"Plans for what?" Was she trying to invite him over?

"New Years," she quirked an eyebrow. Oh right, it was that day.

"Oh, you know whatever," he shrugged. There was no chance we was about to admit that he was planning to lie around at his parents' for New Years while they and his sister went out to do whatever it is they did. "Parties are overrated," he said, but she stared at him unconvinced by his act. "Just a bunch of amateurs drinking and wearing cringe-worthy party hats and-"

"I know a party we could go to."

"Great, let's go!"

After a quick change of clothes - it was miraculous that the suits Melinda had in her trunk fit Phil - they made to the party fashionably late. Phil was sporting an open collar white button up with the top button undone. His dark blue blazer had one clasp midway down his torso and matched his slacks. It was a costume that one of Melinda's former colleagues had left in her car.

She had a much louder outfit - it was the only clean dress readily available. It was a form fitting, silver, sequin dress with a diving neckline and tantalizingly high slit. When she had emerged from the dumpster she was changing behind, Phil had to stop his jaw from dropping. The dress did wonders for her figure, cleavage and very nicely teased her endless legs. And it only confirmed his earlier thoughts: her ex-boyfriend was an idiot.

"You look beautiful," he told her for the umpteenth time that evening as they entered the party.

"I would give you $500 right now for a pair of flats," she admitted.

The only other shoes she had in her car besides her worn out sneakers were a silver pair of high heels to match the dress. Phil winced when he looked down to examine them. They definitely look painful, but did wonders for her legs - not that she really needed help in that department anyway.

"I introduced myself," Phil suddenly brought up as they walked through the party.

"Excuse me?" she replied, but her eyes were searching the crowd as they walked on.

"In New York, I introduced myself first. Doesn't that count as making a move?"

He was reluctant to admit he had been thinking about this the entire ride from the dark parking lot. It was an injustice to him. He had approached her in the airport, introduced himself, talked to her on the train, came up to her on the sidewalk and got her away from her parents. Doesn't any of that count for something?

"Who called who to today?" Melinda snorted and smirked. "By the way, don't mention anything about diapers."

"I didn't have your number," he retorted defensively, choosing to ignore her second comment. If he did have her number he wouldn't have waited _three_ years to call her. He would have called her the next week, next morning even!

"And whose fault is that?"

Before he could make another retort, Melinda began to walk a bit faster and Phil saw someone's face light up with recognition. A small smile graced Melinda's face, which contrasted the wide grin her friend gave her.

"You came," her friend wrapped her in a hug, which Melinda responded to with less enthusiasm. But she responded nonetheless. "And with an attractive man, too," she winked. "Hi, I'm Bobbi."

She shook his hand before pulling the man who was standing behind her forward. "And this is my fiancé, Lance."

"Phil," he introduced himself. Melinda noticed a mischievous glint in his eye before he continued, "I sell diapers online."

He could see Melinda holding back a smile as he blatantly went against her earlier advice. Bobbi and Lance nodded along politely, and he could tell they were also resisting the urge to laugh. Funny as they thought it was, he was making a lot of good money. Thankfully, the awkward silence didn't last much longer.

"Hello ladies," another woman approached in a beautiful red dress.

Without giving him or Lance another thought, the women turned towards their third friend and began walking away and chatting - thought Phil could tell Melinda wasn't so much talking as following their leads and listening. This left the two newly acquainted men standing silent near each other.

"Can I get you a drink?" Phil asked stiffly.

Lance raised his still half-filled glass before taking a sip. "No thanks, mate. I'm good."

Another awkward pause fell between them and Phil couldn't take it for much longer.

"Right, I think I'm going to go get one." and he walked away without another word.

That could have definitely gone better.

"Come on tell us! Who is he?" Bobbi and Peggy kept pressing as Melinda continually brushed off their questions.

"He's just an old friend," she insisted nonchalantly, wishing desperately that they would shift the attention away from her.

"I wish I had an old friend who looked like that, he's gorgeous." Bobbi commented unashamed. "And he looks at you like some kind of goddess. What did you do to the poor boy?" she laughed.

But her friend's joke fell flat and went unheard as Melinda's gaze focused on a farther point. Bobbi and Peggy both turned around to see what had suddenly intrigued Melinda and saw an unpleasant sight.

On the far end of the room, Donald was standing with a beautiful young woman and whispering intimately into her ear. They stood in very close proximity and looked like they were about to kiss.

Was she someone he had just met? They had just broken up several hours ago. Was he cheating on her? How had she not realized that was going on under her nose? Maybe those late nights-

"Perhaps now would be a good time to get you a drink," Peggy stated more than suggested.

Melinda let her friends usher her towards the bar with little resistance. Her head felt light and her chest felt heavy. It took everything in her power to maintain her stoic mask and she knew that it might not be able to hold the entire night.

But a drink sounded absolutely lovely.

Phil had wandered around the big ballroom for several minutes after rethinking that drink. He considered going back to Melinda, but when he went back to the spot he'd left Lance, the ladies were nowhere to be found. After searching the hall for a good ten minutes, he decidedly gave up and sat at the bar.

Maybe she found another guy. One who doesn't get the first strike before they even really get a chance to talk, Phil sulked. Well, if she was having fun so could he. They didn't really establish that they were here as a couple or as dates. No, they were merely friends that are attending the same party and decided to carpool. Yeah. That.

He looked around uninterestedly for a few moments before he realized how he could have a bit of fun. Before he could go through with his plan, Phil took several moments to contemplate whether it was worth the trouble - which wasn't really hard to do because nothing could make his plan worthless.

Spotting a man with a cell phone nearby, Phil went over and asked to borrow it for a quick second. A devious smirk curled his lips as he dialed a number he memorized by heart. It only took three rings before someone answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey Maria," Phil greeted his sister lovingly. This was almost too easy.

"What do you want, Phil?" she responded with her usual impatience. Little sisters, jeez. He couldn't wait till she grew up a little more.

"You'll never guess what just happened," he could picture Maria rolling her eyes in response. "I'm at this big Hollywood New Year's party and that one white rapper you like is here."

"Eminem is there? You met Eminem?"

He heard his sister and her friends' enthusiastic response. He'd almost forgotten that she was throwing her own New Year's party at home and he almost felt bad for what we was about to do - almost.

"Yeah, the craziest thing happened," he went on, "I was sitting at the bar with him and we started chatting. Next thing I know he puts his hand on my thigh and slowly starts moving his hands up towards-"

"Urgh, you're such an annoying dick, Phil!" Maria exclaimed, cutting off his story.

"Happy New Year, little sis," he smiled gingerly when he heard what sounds like Maria angrily hanging up on him.

After maybe another year or two, after he's settled in San Francisco, she might mature enough for them to no longer tease each other. So he had to make what little time they had left count, didn't he? It was his duty as the older brother.

He returned the stranger's phone with a gracious smile and got up to walk around a bit more. A very cute girl was eyeing him from across the room and he decided to try his luck. What was New Years without a New Year's kiss right?

Phil only got as far as saying his name before he was surprisingly - but not unpleasantly - interrupted.

"There you are," Melinda slurred as she grabbed hold of his arm loosely yet forcefully. How much has she had to drink?

Not enough to make her more talkative, that's for sure, because without saying another word, she led Phil to the dance floor where they danced intimately. His hands easily settled on her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck as they swayed and circled slowly to the music.

This was definitely something he could probably get used to. Melinda in his arms, holding her closely. It felt comfortable, familiar, nice. She smelled like vanilla and tea and they fit so well together, like two pieces of a puzzle. So what he witnessed broke his heart a little.

When he looked down, hoping to meet her gaze, he found her head turned as she stoically watching another couple dance. Phil followed her line of sight and saw a man looking at the unhappily before he swiftly turned away with his partner. That must be the idiot.

Despite her mask, Phil could tell Melinda was hurt. There was a shattered look in her eyes that were a dead giveaway. She probably didn't know this, but her eyes always told him all he needed to know.

"Put your hands on my ass," he whispered to her as they continued to sway. Melinda looked up in amused confused. "That'll definitely get him jealous."

With a soft chuckle, the corner of her lips curled and she shook her head, laying it back on his chest. She was trying so hard to play it strong and show no weakness. It really did bother Phil.

"I could put my hands on your ass," he offered as if it were a big hassle. Though she didn't take him up on his offer, but her response was equally satisfying.

Shaking her head once more, she laughed softly as she pulled away from him and flashed him a much more genuine smile. Phil didn't resist while he watched her fondly and for a second Melinda could see what Bobbi meant about how he looked at her. There was so much there, it was a little overwhelming.

"I need to use the lady's room," she informed him before quickly and quietly slipping away.

Phil looked on as she fled to the bathroom before turning once more to her ex-boyfriend. He had been watching them as well and frowned at Phil. His arms were still around another woman, but Phil could tell his mind was still on Melinda. Perhaps she wasn't the only one at a loss.

Only five minutes had passed when the DJ announced that it was time to countdown to the New Year. The crowd on the dancefloor quickly began to push towards the large courtyard and Phil found himself swept along with them as he looked around for Melinda. After struggle for a few seconds, he was able to get himself to the outskirts of the crowd when people began counting down from 30. He found a small ledge that gave him just enough height to look above the crowd and he spotted Melinda as the crowd got to 10. She was standing near her ex-boyfriend.

Phil quickly jumped off the ledge and pushed his way through the crowd. It got easier when they got to 1 and everyone began kissing and hugging. Only three seconds late, his arms swiftly slipped around her and he pressed his lips against hers. She didn't respond at first, but as he began to pull away, she chased his lips and firmly kissed him back. Her arms wrapped around his neck and he turned her slightly so that they were fully facing each other as they continued to kiss in the midst of the crazy New Year's celebration.

This was definitely something he wanted to get used to.

It was 1:30 in the morning when they finally made their way into his apartment. He had driven because she was obviously intoxicated - something he never thought he'd witness - and he led her up the small flight of stairs that led to his humble abode.

Once they were inside, Melinda froze and looked around suspiciously. The place was nearly empty save for some boxes in the corner of the living room.

"Phil," she started calmly, "you may have been robbed."

Phil had to stop himself from laughing aloud - his neighbors weren't very tolerant - at her statement. She may be drunker than he had previously thought.

"I'm moving," he told her plainly and was met with a look of confusion and what looked almost like betrayal. "I told you that earlier, remember? My business? It's in San Francisco." Though to be fair, it was only in passing.

"When?" she asked softly.

"In the morning," he didn't want to look at her so he turned his back to put the bottle of champagne they procured on the window sill.

Tonight had been fun and he would love to stay with her and explore whatever it was they were, but it was also three years too late. He had a plane ticket, a business-he had a _plan_. Despite the obvious chemistry they had, he couldn't just drop it on the off chance they'd work. If only…

It grew quiet around them and Phil began to sift through his boxes for some candles to light. When he found some, he walked over to the table attached to his wall and lit them.

"Phil," Melinda called and when he looked up she snapped a picture of him. Somethings just don't change.

He smiled at her as he made his way over and clenched his fist. All the pain was from earlier was long gone but the memories from the park - both in New York and in LA - were there to stay.

Suddenly feeling a little parched, he looked for some glasses in one of his boxes while she explored another. He found two plastic cups and was about to pour them both a drink when he heard a small gasp of surprise. When he looked up, he found her looking at one of his framed pictures.

"I took this," she stated and when he took a closer look she was right. It was her picture of the bridge in New York.

"Yeah, I really liked it," he admitted as he took it from her, "so I framed it." It was also one of his favorite memories from his three week stay in New York.

With a soft sigh, he put the photo down and looked up to find Melinda looking at him with an unreadable expression. He searched her eyes for answers, but for once they didn't betray her. Then she gave a soft scoff.

"Just when I started to like you…" she trailed off and he knew there was a tinge of sadness in what was left unsaid. If she asked him to stay, he didn't know if he would be able to get on that plane tomorrow.

Melinda knew. Phil did look at her as if she were a goddess. He looked at her the same way she was currently looking at him. So she knew, she just had to say the word and he wouldn't leave her. But she wouldn't-couldn't do that him. He had a plan and they had a deal. Sabotaging that wouldn't be right.

Phil moved passed her to quickly replace the photo into the box but paused from returning to his previous position. They were standing inches away and he could feel her breath on his cheek. Slowly, he turned his head so that they were looking at each other eye-to-eye and he felt both of them freeze.

Without another thought, Phil closed the gap and kissed her. This time Melinda answered back immediately and quickly deepened the kiss. They both pulled back for a quick breath of air before finding their lips melded together once more. One of her hands combed his hair while the other felt his back, hoping to memorize its landscape. Phil's hands had settled on her waist and he turned her around so that she was pinned between him and the window. The kiss was getting more heated the longer it lasted and just as he began to reach down to the slit of her dress, Melinda pulled away with a gasp.

"I'll be right back," she promised breathlessly as she grabbed her purse and made her way to his bathroom.

Phil took a moment to catch his breath before suddenly going through his boxes. Luckily, he had planned to brush his teeth the next morning and his bathroom baggie was on the top of one of boxes. He put some toothpaste on his finger and sucked on it to give himself a better, fresher taste. Then he sat down and tried to settle into a cool position as he waited for her.

After three minutes and no sound coming from the bathroom, he began to get worried. Did she crawl out of the bathroom window? It was a small drop, but after seeing her kick ass, he didn't doubt she could do it.

Decisively, he made his way to his restroom and knocked gently. When it was met with no response, he began to gently open the door as he called her name. The door swung all the way open and he was greeted with the sight of her passed out over the toilet. And somehow, she had still managed to look sexy.

Nonetheless, the mood was ruined. Phil walked over to her and gently picked her up. She was lucky his bed was one that fell out of the wall or he'd be forced to let her sleep on the floor and that would definitely be uncomfortable to wake up to. Once she was safely on the bed and in a position which ensured she wouldn't choke on any her own vomit, he took out one of his sweatshirts and put it on her to warm her up.

He got himself ready to sleep as well and figured it wouldn't matter if they shared the bed - they did share the bathroom on the plane to New York as well as other things. He laid down behind her and spooned her as sleep quickly claimed him.

If only he had time to get used to this.


End file.
